


Tell Me a Story

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: If only I’d had a nurse like this when I had measles.





	Tell Me a Story

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by Season Nine’s Avalon, II and Daniel’s sweet “once upon a time” to Cameron. And then I heard Mag’s clip of MS doing an audio book….   
> So I’ll send this one out to Magnavox, ‘cause I could listen to that clip over and over and over.
> 
> This is another oldie but goody....

It is completely beyond me how I can be laid up with the measles. The measles, of all things! Have you ever? I mean, I swear I had them years ago. But, of course, not the alien variety. And of all the people most likely to come down with spots, I’d have put money on the only one who didn’t get them. Daniel. Yeah, the I-get-everything-coming-and-going-kid. 

Well, T didn’t get them, but I don’t think Jaffa can get the measles. And the infirmary was so full of the spotty kids that Fraiser shipped us off as soon as we were non-contagious. Carter went to Tok’ra Land with Jacob and I got to go home with Nurse Daniel. Wonder if he’d put on a white uniform?

So here I am, in my own bed, in my own house, being tended by Daniel. There is something so wrong with this picture. It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m the commanding officer here, not the patient.

“Jack?” I look up to see Daniel lounging in the doorway. “Do you need anything before I go to the store?”

I snarl at him, he just grins, with a promise to be back in less than an hour. His last remark about me staying out of trouble earns him a pillow pitched after him. He pitches it back before he bounds down the stairs. I roll over with a groan, trying to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep.

 

*

I know it can’t have been an hour, but when I wake up, there he is. I squint at the clock. “It’s three o’clock,” he murmurs without looking up from his book. How does he do that? It’s like my mother, I always swore she had eyes in the back of her head. 

“Daniel?” He looks up and smiles slightly. “You’re not gonna sit here and just watch me, are you? ‘Cause I have to tell you, that’s pathetic.”

He marks his place and carefully closes a book that’s probably older than all of SG1 put together. “This is kinda new territory for me, Jack. I’m sorry if I’m hovering, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

I can see the indecision, uneasiness all over his face. And he’s giving up time I know he’d rather spend anywhere else, doing anything else. “Sorry for being so pissy. I’m not a good patient.”

“Really?” He grins broadly. “Coulda fooled me.”

I roll over so I can watch him. “Talk to me, Daniel.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, anything. Tell me a story.” Who’s pathetic now?

“Once upon a time..” he starts dutifully.

“Not that kind of story. A real one. Something that really happened.”  
He bites his lip and studies me, to see if I’m serious. “Come on, Daniel, I know you’ve had some adventures you can talk about.”

He thought for a minute, then nodded. “When I was six, we were living in Egypt. My dad was working on a dig; my mother was doing some translations for a professor at Oxford. And I was making a nuisance of myself.”

I laid my head down on my arm, smiling. “You? Making a nuisance of yourself? I don’t believe it!”

“I wasn’t always the sweet kid you see before you today. Anyway, I was tagging after my dad, being so very helpful..” I drift to sleep listening to his soft voice.

*

 

When I wake up, it’s dark. The clock says it’s going for seven, I know that can’t be true. I cannot have slept for four hours. I sit up, feeling a pressing need to pee. As I try to convince myself I can get up, I hear Daniel coming up the stairs. I am instantly furious, I can take myself to the bathroom, I snap as he enters. 

He simply stands there as I stagger to my feet, then leaps to catch me when I pitch forward. So I have to suffer the indignity of Daniel practically carrying me to the bathroom, although he does let me do my business all by myself. Then hauls my ass back to bed and tucks me in. “Could you eat something? Soup?”

“I’d rather have a whiskey.”

“Yeah, coming right up.” Sarcasm does not suit the boy.

“You made soup?”

“Anyone can open a can of soup, Jack, even me.” He disappears and I thrash around trying to get comfortable. He’s back in a flash, with a tray of soup and crackers, so fast he must have been ready for me. Even though I grumble as I dig in, once I start eating, I realize I’m starving. 

So I eat every bit, although I draw the line at drinking the milk. Which he promptly hands back to me with the Tylenol he doles out; although I bitch about it, I drink to his obvious satisfaction. He takes the tray away, bringing his book back with him.

“You are not going to sit up with me all night, Daniel. It’s just the measles, for God’s sake!” I squirm, knowing what I have to say. “Umm, thanks for staying, Daniel. I know it’s a drag.”

I slide over to make room and he flops down beside me, opening his book. “No problem, Jack, you’d do the same for me.” We sit in silence for several minutes. I know he’s tired, but he’s waiting for me to drop off.

“I wonder if the Tok’ra make chicken soup?”

His eyes never leave his book. “Yeah, they probably boil their skirts and drink the juice.” 

I choke as I picture Jacob standing over a kettle, stirring his clothes. “Daniel, I dare you to say that to Carter when she gets back!”

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Don’t think I won’t.” He scoots across the bed till his back is against the wall, his legs stretched out across the foot. I snuggle down as he turns out the light, let my feet rest against him, figuring if I feign sleep, he’ll be able to rest. Unfortunately, I do such a good job of pretending that I fool myself and before long, I’m gone.

*

When I wake up the next morning, there he sits, just staring at me. “I swear to God, Daniel, if you sat up all night, I am so gonna kick your ass!” He smiles wearily at me, knowing I am incapable of carrying out my threat. “Just wait till I get better, boy, you are so gonna get it.”

“Think you’re up for a shower?”

That has to be the best idea I have heard in a long time. So I suffer him hauling me out of the bed, helping me shuffle to the bathroom, where I insist he leave me alone. He does, but I know he is not far away. The shower takes much longer than I thought it would, but I finally emerge from the bathroom, feeling like a new man. Only to find Daniel has stripped and   
re-made my bed with fresh sheets. 

Resisting the temptation to try them out, I head for the stairs. Another long trip but I follow the enticing smell of coffee into the kitchen, where there is a cup with my name on it, beside a bowl of oatmeal. I fall into the chair and take a big drink, scalding my tongue and sending my taste buds into a caffeine orgasm. It is the first thing that has actually tasted good in days.

“Daniel?” He looks up from his seat at the table, with coffee and without oatmeal. “Will you marry me?”

He laughs at my expression. “You are so easy, Jack, if that’s all it takes to make you happy.” Watching me take every bite, I think about what a good father he would make.

“Do you ever think about having kids?”

His eyes lose their gleam, drop away from mine. “Sha’re and I always thought we would...”

Shit, I wish I could pull my tongue out. “Daniel, I’m sorry.” He gets up and pours himself another coffee; when he turns back around, I can see he’s gotten a grip on his emotions.

“It’s okay, Jack,” he leans back against the counter, sipping, his eyes still not meeting mine, but watching me eat. 

I finish my oatmeal like a good boy and search for something witty to say. “So, what say we go jogging?”

He plays along. “Yeah, you know what? You start and I’ll join you.”

I make noises with the spoon and the bowl. “I can run rings around you any day, boy.” The sad truth is, I can’t. I might start out ahead, but he’ll beat in endurance. I shuffle to the living room, I’m sick to death of my bedroom. I grab the remote as I fall onto the couch, listening to the comforting sounds of Daniel puttering around in the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, pouring himself yet another cup of coffee. 

I slyly eye him as he joins me; he looks utterly exhausted. He’s abandoned his books for a laptop. “Anything happening in the world I need to know about?” I hunt for something remotely entertaining. Baseball, maybe. Horse racing, don’t think so. Some chicks shooting pool, remember that channel. Movies I flip past quickly.

“Teal’c says hi.”

“Hi right back at him. So not coming out?”

“He’s staying on base, helping with the spotty kids.” I don’t think he realized he’s picked up my bad habits. 

“Anybody new in the spotty department?”

“No, things are kinda slowing down.”

“Here, too. You know, you should go home, get a real night’s sleep.”

“Tomorrow, maybe.” He seems engrossed in something.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Reading an article about using GPS to determine how crop circles were made.”

“You know some guys made those just to drive you science geeks nuts, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving the screen.

I give up and settle on the chicks playing pool, wondering if I can covert a room here in my house to a game room. You need a lot of room, a really big room if you’re gonna set up a proper pool table. I watch a couple of matches, completely entranced by the sheer talent, not to mention the hot chicks. 

After a particularly amazing shot, I turn to ask Daniel if he had seen it and I realize he isn’t seeing much of anything. I lean over and slip the laptop out of his hands, his glasses off his face. He shrugs sluggishly in protest.

He barely stirs when the phone rings; I leap to grab it before it wakes him completely. Surprisingly, it’s Dr. Fraiser on the other end. I take the phone to sit on the stairs so I won’t disturb Daniel.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Daniel’s asleep right now, he thinks he has to sit up nights with me like I was a little kid. Yeah, it’s actually kinda nice, except for the fact that he’s wearing himself out. By the time I get ready to go back to work, he’s gonna be worthless.” She murmurs something about him taking better care of himself. “Yeah, lots of luck in accomplishing that.”

I slip back into the living room, I don’t think Daniel has moved an inch. As much as I hate to wake him, if I let him sleep like that, he’s gonna be stiff. So I lean over and shake him gently. “Daniel? Wake up.” He finally opens those big, sleepy eyes. “Come on, Daniel, let’s go to bed.” He protests, but not too convincingly. 

We climb the stairs together. I drop him off in the guestroom and make for my room. I give him a few minutes, then poke my head in the doorway. He’s lying on the covers, dead to the world. I ease his boots off and cover him up; stand and watch him, just like I used to do with Charlie. “Good night, Daniel.”

I wander downstairs, flop back on the couch, and watch even more pool. Despite thinking I wasn’t sleepy, I end up snoring on the couch. 

And when I wake, Daniel is sitting there, his face stuck in that damn laptop. I glare at him. “Didn’t I put you to bed, Daniel?”

“Hours ago, Jack. Thanks, by the way.” He looks up. “How do you feel?”

I would cut my tongue out before I admit that I still feel crappy and wish I were upstairs in my own bed. “Why,” I say with a smile, “I’m fine, just fine.”

He eyes me suspiciously; that has to be the most overused line in the history of his short but colorful life. I don’t care how many holes he has in him, how many staff wounds, ribbon burns, Goa’uld head bangings, he’s always fine. “So what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” I perk up immediately.

“Yeah, right, that’ll happen.” He is unmoved by my pout. “Remember the light diet?”

“Geez, Daniel, I’ve lost like twenty pounds since I’ve been sick,” he rolls his eyes in disbelief. “I need some real food.”

“Pizza isn’t technically real food.”

“I’ll have you know pizza contains all the major food groups.”

He remains unconvinced. “How about some more soup?” My eyes are rolling now. “Soup tonight and we’ll see how you feel tomorrow, okay?” He ignores my expression. 

“You know I’m keeping score, don’t you?” I shout at him as he bangs around in my kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m so afraid.”

The doorbell saves me from having to come up with a smart reply. He darts past me to answer it, I can hear soft murmuring, Daniel’s laugh. And following him back into the living room is Janet Frasier. Daniel carries some kind of a dish past me.

“Jack, how are you?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Daniel hollers from the kitchen.

“Smartass,” I mutter as Janet moves Daniel’s laptop and sits down, casting an eagle eye over me. 

“So, Jack, how are you, really?” 

“Still a bit tired, to be honest with you.” I pitch my voice low enough so that Daniel won’t hear.

“Well, you look better. However, Daniel doesn’t.”

“Ya gotta talk to him, Doc. He thinks he has to watch me 24-7.”

“I know, that’s why I came. I’m here to see that Daniel gets some sleep.”

“And how are you gonna accomplish that?”

“Watch and learn, boy.” She grins wickedly.

*

Over dinner of her quite tasty stew, in her oh-so-sly way, she worms the information out of Daniel that he hasn’t been taking his allergy medication. Left it at home, or so he says. She kindly offers to give him a boost, just to keep his immunity up. 

He protests, she points out that he won’t be much use to good old Jack if he gets sick. He agrees, and she whips a needle out so quickly, I knew she had it all ready for him. And convinces him that it will work faster if he takes it in the hip. So he trails her upstairs to get his shot.

Fifteen minutes later, she comes back with a decided thundercloud over her head. And a not-sleeping Daniel trailing behind her. He detours into the kitchen. I lean toward her. “What happened?” She gives me that look women learn to master about the same time they learn to tie their own shoes.  
“I thought you were gonna give him a shot?”

“What am I? A dog that needs to be put down?” Daniel is lounging in the doorway with a sneer of triumph and a large coffee. Fraiser exits with a window-rattling slam of my front door.

The only way I can get Daniel to go to bed is to pretend that I’m exhausted so he can help me up the stairs. I sling my arm around his shoulders and casually, accidentally slide my hand across his face.

“Jack, I don’t have a fever. Will you stop already?” 

“Just checking, Daniel. I’m just worried, that’s all.” I know if he gets the measles, he’ll make my life a miserable hell. Just because he can.


End file.
